Stranded
by Kuri333
Summary: On their way back to London for Christmas, snow delays their flight and forces them to a night in Chicago. While Anna wants to make the most out of it, her colleague, Bates, doesn't like it at all. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

"Listen, I need to be on that flight. I need to be in London tomorrow!"

"But sir, I've already told you. It's been cancelled. All flights have until the snow gets cleaned from the runway, and they can't do that while there's still snowing."

Bates closes his eyes and Anna sees he's clenching his teeth. The hand that is clutching the handle of his suitcase is so tight, the knuckles are white.

"There has to be another option!"

It is so strange to see him lose control like this; she has to admit she is a little scared.

"The airline will notify you the moment there is an opening on a following flight," the lady behind the counter answers with well-rehearsed professionalism, even though Anna can see she's more than a little intimidated at his displays.

"What is the matter, Linda?" A man in a suit walks from inside an office and stands next to the woman at the counter.

"I need to get to London on the next flight!" Bates repeats. Anna feels she has to add something but she thinks he's just being too stubborn. She is not going to be the one telling him this, though.

"I can't guarantee that, sir," the man says, and in his polite voice there is a cold tone that could very well be contempt. "We will give priority to the ones who've missed the earlier flights, and to people with special needs or travelling with children. And afterwards we will make everything in our power to get you safely to London." That last word is almost a sneer, but Anna doubts Bates noticed.

"That's not acceptable!" His fist hits the counter and both the woman behind it and Anna jump. The man, however, seems to have been expecting something like this, Maybe he has dealt with other versions of Bates before.

"Listen, sir." The man steps until he is as close as Bates as possible, with the counter in the middle of them. "There's a blizzard out there," he points at the huge glass-paned window. Anna looks there, too, even though she knows exactly what she'll see. There is plastic mistletoe and red and golden balls hanging from the corners and, behind it, snow. Swirling, falling, blowing against the window. If it is up to her, she won't fly, even if she is offered a place in one of the planes. "We have more than 11 inches of snow and already more than one hundred flights have been cancelled. Nobody is going to even try to remove the snow in the runway until the blizzard passes, and even then, it's going to take a while. There won't be flights tonight. Maybe, if you're lucky, you can get something tomorrow."

"You have to give me another option," Bates says through clenched teeth, and now Anna has a strong urge to grab his sleeve and pull him out of there, just to stop him making a fool of himself any further. She settles by rolling her eyes.

"Perhaps you would like to rent a car?" The man has almost dropped all pretences of being polite. "Only, good luck trying to get to London like that."

"Listen-"

"I suppose we better get out suitcases, Mr Bates." Anna says with what she hopes is enough force to make him shut up, but not too much that he would direct his evident rage at her. Who would have thought Bates would be so determined to get home for Christmas? As far as she knows, he doesn't even have a family.

She succeeds. He looks at her and it feels as if he just realises she's been there all along.

"You have our number," Anna says to the woman, choosing to ignore her boss.

"Yes, ma'am. We'll let you know as soon as there's an opening."

"Thanks a heap."

Bates is no longer there, but at the carousel, looking at the passing suitcases. Pulling her own carry-on, she stands right next to him. He doesn't speak and she is still more than a little taken aback to know what to say. After a moment she spots her suitcase, and makes a move to grab it. He gets there first and helps her. When she turns around to thank him he manages to smile a little and she relaxes.

"I need to make a phone call," he says, the moment his case is out the carousel, too. "Do you mind keeping an eye on these?"

"Of course," Anna says, and watches him walk away a few metres and take his phone out of his pocket.

She should do some arrangements, too. With swift fingers, she types and scrolls up and down her own phone. Curiosity wins her over, and she looks up. He is moving his hands in exasperation and she is sure he is yelling and whoever is on the other side of the line, even though she can't hear him over the noise of the rest of the travellers. Whatever it is, it looks as if the other person is less than thrilled of his being stranded, too.

He finally hangs up after a long moment, but he doesn't come back for a while. He seems to be taking deep, calming breaths.

Suddenly he looks in her direction, and she hastens to look back at her phone. A moment later he's standing next to her.

"What do we do now?" he asks.

"I don't know about you, but I won't be spending the night perched on one of those plastic chairs," Anna points at one row of them right next to a store. They are all occupied, "even if we get a free spot." He raises his eyebrows and she sees a snappy retort coming. "I've booked us a hotel," she hastens to add. "In the city. We only need to find a taxi."

His expression changes. "What if there is an opening-?"

"Then they'll call us. But you heard that nice fellow over there," Anna's voice is laden with sarcasm and she manages to get a lopsided smile from him. "There won't be flights tonight. If you're that desperate, we can come back tomorrow morning and stand there until they put us somewhere." He nods. "Or… we can just wait for them to call. You decide."

He sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Of all the days in the year."

"It's the 22nd," Anna says. "You still can make it on time for Christmas."

"It's not Christmas," he mutters, but he doesn't elaborate.

She's suddenly tired of his bad mood. The two of them are in the same situation, and his being so angry about it doesn't make it any easier for her.

Walking a little further, she looks around until she finds the exit. "Shall we, then?"

Both grab the handles of their suitcases and head outside. Even with her coat on, she feels the cold in her bones. At her side, Bates swears under his breath.

"Almost makes you miss London's weather, doesn't it?" he mutters, and she's relieved to see he's almost back to normal. At least his dry sense of humour seems to be coming back.

She approaches the first of a long line of taxis and shows the driver the screen of her phone. A moment later, they are sharing the back seat, their suitcases on the trunk. The road is covered by ice and the cars move quite slowly.

"Have you ever been to Chicago before?" She asks after a while.

"Never," he answers. "I've passed through the airport, but never stayed. Have you?"

"No." She doesn't say it, but now that they're stuck here, she's almost happy. It's barely 6 pm, and even though the sky is dark and the snow keeps on falling, she has make sure their hotel is located downtown, so she can walk around a little. That is, if she doesn't freeze to death in the process.

After another long silence, he speaks. "I had an appointment. Tomorrow afternoon." It takes her a moment to realise he's explaining himself. "Now I won't be able to be there."

"I'm sorry," she says. "Couldn't you reschedule?"

"I just have," he shrugs. "They are not happy."

She gives him a sympathetic smile and he sighs again.

"Oh well. It is what it is," he adds.

Since he doesn't say anything, she turns to look out the window. She has been nervous enough about travelling this close to Christmas, but there wasn't anything to be done about that. The two of them had been sent by their company to attend a conference in Texas. It was supposed to be just a three-day trip. Who had the brilliant idea to send them through O'Hare International was anybody's guess.

"Is that the only pair of shoes you've brought?"

The question is so strange she has to ask him to repeat it.

"Yes, why?"

He looks at the window for a moment, and then back at her. "I was thinking… well… I'm sorry you saw me behave like that back there…"

"It's alright. You were angry."

"I was desperate," he corrects her. "But still, it's no excuse. And… I'm afraid I made a fool of myself." He lets out a dry chuckle and she does the same.

"Maybe a little."

"But now there's nothing to be done. The appointment has been missed and rescheduled, and here we are."

Suddenly, inexplicably, he heart starts beating madly. "Yes?"

"I was thinking that, since neither of us has been here before, we could go for a walk. Or grab something to eat. If you like."

She looks at him incredulously. It's not that they are not friendly enough. After two years of working in the same company, they have had the opportunity to talk many times, and this is not the first trip to which they have even been sent together. Only, with Bates it's always business; there always seem to be some sort of invisible wall. A boundary he won't cross and she's not supposed to cross either. Sometimes she's tried, and failed.

Walking together in Chicago and getting something to eat is a definite crossing of that boundary.

"I'd like that very much," she says mechanically, still trying to understand the change. Maybe he's just trying to make up to her for behaving like a fool in the airport.

"Only, you'll need other shoes."

She looks at her high heels. Perfect for attending a conference. Good enough for navigating through London for a little while. Definitely unsuited for eleven inches of snow.

"You're right."

"Shops should still be open," he says. "What if we fix your shoe situation first and then we can decide what to do?"

She smiles at him. "Good idea."

It takes them a long time to get to their hotel, and almost none at all to get settled and meet back in the lobby.

"It's a nice location," he says when he sees her approaching. He is holding a map of the city centre. "Good choice."

She smiles at him, and at the fact that the remaining traces of his bad mood seem to have disappeared.

"There's a department store two blocks from here," he says, carefully folding the map and placing it inside his pocket. "Will you manage or should we get another taxi?"

"We won't get a taxi for just two blocks," she protests. "I can manage."

The moment they walk out it's clear it won't be that easy. The snow doesn't blow as much here, between the tall buildings, but the pavement is slippery. At some point she actually loses her step and he catches her just in time.

"Thanks," she mutters, feeling she's blushing furiously.

"No problem," he says, helping her straighten up. He doesn't let go of her arm, though, and they keep on walking like that. She finds she doesn't dislike that at all.

When they emerge from the store, her new hiking boots on and her heels on her purse, she misses taking his arm. She doesn't dare doing it, though. It's not snowing anymore.

"It's a pity the Art Institute is closed," she says, "but there's a Christmas Market not far from here."

"You've given this some thought, haven't you?"

She smiles. "That phone call of yours was long enough." They start walking. "And since we're here, I thought I'll make the most of circumstances."

He chuckles. "So, you were planning on go walking on your own, or were you going to ask me to join you?"

"Honestly?"

"Preferably."

"I didn't think you'd want to come. So, yes, I was sort of planning to go walking on my own." He looks a little uncomfortable. "I'm glad you came, though. I like it better this way."

"Only because I saved you from breaking a leg in the ice back there." He sounds amused.

"Only because of that, yes."

They take the train and don't talk much until they reach the market. It's full of people, lights and movement. Nobody seems to mind the cold, but Anna feels her teeth clatter.

"You know, there should be somebody selling hot wine somewhere around here," he talks into her ear. It's difficult to hear him even like that, with all the voices of people and the sounds of street musicians everywhere.

"There," she points at one of the wooden barrows.

They manage to find a high table and Bates gets them two steaming mugs. She breathes the scents of herbs and wine, and it reminds her a little of home.

"Cheers," he says, and they rise their mugs.

"What are we toasting to?" she asks.

He thinks for a long moment. "The unexpected?" He offers.

She beams, and her heart does that crazy beating again. She has to control that, and now, before it becomes something else that would be absolutely inappropriate with a colleague. "The unexpected," she repeats, and their mugs make a little clank.

The fact is, she thinks about him more than what's strictly necessary. It has been like that for a while now. She knows nothing could ever come out of it, but she can't help noticing whenever he enters a room, or that rare smile of his that transforms his features.

"So," he says, after taking a healthy dose of wine. "Are you hungry?"

"I am...," she says looking around at the stands. "There's one man selling sandwiches over there."

"What about going to dinner? I mean, to somewhere we can sit down and be warm."

"That's a better idea."

They end up in a pizza place. She would have liked to eat something more local, but he notes that, with so many Italians coming to the US, pizza is practically local. She has to agree to that.

As appetizers, cheese-stuffed pizza and wine are brought to their table, they talk a lot. She learns that he is a personal friend from Mr Crawley, their boss, and is amazed at the fact that, in all this time she didn't notice. He, on the other hand, asks her about how the company was before he came.

No longer afterwards they stop talking about work and questions become more personal. Anna tells him about growing up in Yorkshire and he tells her about his time in the army. She doesn't like to think about him going to war, but he tells her all that is long buried in his past, and he never saw any real action anyway.

"That's where I met Robert. Mr Crawley. he was in charge of my unit."

"Really? I'd never have guessed he's the military type."

"Oh, he's not. That's why he left… that, and the fact that his wife threatened him to kill him herself if he ever considered going to war." He laughs, and she joins in.

It suddenly strikes her how strange it is to be having such a good time with him.

"Can I ask you something, Mr Bates?"

"How come you don't call me John?"

"All right, John." He looks at her, expectantly. "What's changed?"

"I'm sorry?" he says, a trace of laughter still lingering in his features.

"You're never friendly. You're not rude either," she hurries to add, "but you're always so… reserved. Not tonight, though. I think this is the first time I've heard you laugh. It's a beautiful laughter."

He smiles at her, looking both pleased and confused.

"I just… I enjoy your company," he says, his eyes fixed on her, and it seems there's so much more in there than those four words. Or maybe she's just reading too much into what's nothing but friendly diner. "I've always have."

"But there's something different tonight," she presses on, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

He shrugs. "Maybe it's the city," and he laughs a little. She joins him, but she's not convinced with his answer. Without breaking eye contact, he takes a sip from his glass of wine. She mirrors his actions, and suddenly it dawns on her.

He's not just being unusually friendly. He's being flirty.

"So, Anna," he says, as he signs a waiter to bring them the bill. "What do we do now?"

They walk all the way to Millennium Park. Most of the shops around it are closed now, but the park itself is alive with people, locals and tourists taking pictures. Kids throwing snowballs at each other and passers-by laden with shopping bags.

"Do you like skating?" She asks when she sees the rink. It's about to close, and there are not many remaining skaters.

"I haven't done it for ages," he says, looking far less enthusiastic.

"Me neither. Let's do it!"

"What? Now?"

"Come on! It should be like riding a bike!" She pulls at his sleeve and he lets her guide him, albeit reluctantly.

"Meaning that you can lose all your teeth if you fall from it?"

She laughs. "That too."

Maybe it's the wine, or the cold, or both, but she doesn't feel as sure as she made him believe once the skates are on her feet. He, on the other hand, seems to be more than uncomfortable.

"So… now…" he says, looking at a passing skater that must be going 20 miles per hour.

"So now we go in," she says, putting a tentative feet on the ice surface.

"Aha…" he says, doing the same.

She puts the other one and gingerly, she pushes herself a little. The ice is not exactly smooth and she manages a couple of steps before turning back. He is still at the door.

"Oh, come on." She says.

Suddenly, he beams at her, and with quite an unexpected leap, he goes right past her and into the middle of the rink with sure, long strides.

"Why you… you cheated!" she yells at him. He just laughs.

"I didn't!"

She takes impulse and with several shorter and less sure steps she is right next to him.

"You said you-"

"What did I say, exactly?"

She takes a deep breath, trying to recall his words.

"You said you haven't done this in ages."

"Which is true." He keeps on moving, skating around her in swift, exasperating circles. He is beaming, though, and Anna is sure she has never seen him smile like this. It makes him look very handsome.

"You can't possibly..."

"What I might have neglected to tell you," he says, now skating backwards. "Is that I used to play hockey in school."

She squints her eyes, and a second later she burst out with laughter. She can't help it; his expression is so very contagious.

"Come on now," he says, taking her gloved hand in his.

"Wait, what?"

He pulls at her, and she feels that that thing he said about losing teeth is suddenly a very real possibility.

The rink, the skaters, the shining silver bean, the trees on the park, all are a confusing blur and the only solid thing seems to be his hand.

"Don't let go of me!" She yells, and he laughs, but stops. She is almost trembling.

"This won't do," he says, looking at her pensively. "Can I…? Excuse me." This time he puts an arm around her waist, and his other hand holds hers. "Now, try to match my steps. I'll go slower, I promise."

She is touched at his concern, and despite the layers of clothing, suddenly very aware of his touch. Anna can't dwell much on that, because he's skating again.

This time it's much easier. His strides are slow and shorter, and after a few awkward attempts, she manages to match them. They manage to circle the rink once before she loses her step and he has to stop them against the barrier.

"That wasn't that bad, was it?"

She beams. "It was great, actually."

"Again?"

She nods, and his arm is back around his waist. This time they go faster, but she feels her body relax a little against his. It is suddenly easy, skating, being with him, everything. "Faster?" he mutters, and his lips are very close to her ear. She just nods and has to force herself to concentrate on her skates and his rhythm. The feeling of the icy wind on her cheeks doesn't lessen the warmth of his touch. It makes it all even more exciting.

"Hold tight," he says, and suddenly they are spinning, before coming to a halt right next to the barrier. His hands are holding hers and even though there is no need, his body is touching hers.

"Whoa," she whispers.

He just chuckles. One of his gloved hands let go of hers and he puts a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

"I must look like a mess," she says, suddenly self-conscious.

"You look beautiful," he mutters. "You are beautiful."

His gaze on hers becomes too intense, and she suddenly feels uncomfortable. Her eyes rest on the tip of her skates.

His move backwards and his hands are no longer holding hers. She looks up to see he's standing a little apart. She doesn't want him too. Not at all. He heart beating madly again, she reaches out and, with a smile, he takes her hand on his.

"Let's do it again," she says. And they do.

Her legs tremble a little when she puts back her boots after returning the skates. She doesn't think it's just the skating.

Now she feels bolder, though, and without thinking much about it, she slides her arm in the crook of his. If the gesture surprises him, he doesn't show it; his arm tightens, securing hers in place.

"Let's go to see that bean up close," she proposes and he nods.

"It doesn't make much sense, does it?" He comments once they are standing in front of it, their reflections oddly distorted.

"I like it."

"I don't say I don't. But it doesn't make sense."

She chuckles, and takes out her phone, even though it means letting go off his arm. "We have to do the picture, everybody does."

He rolls his eyes at her, but he is smiling and she is not fooled. They stand closer to one another and he takes the phone from her gloved hand. "My arms are larger," he explains. "Ready?"

She nods and he presses the button several times.

"Send me a copy of that," he says, and then he is the one taking her hand in her arm and she can't help but beam at him.

"I've run out of ideas," she says as they walk down the now almost deserted park.

"Are you cold?"

"Not particularly."

"Tired?"

She smiles drily. "At some point we'll have to take a nine hour flight. I'll get my rest then."

They pause in front of two men playing music, a saxophone and drums. They look enthusiastic, even though there is not much public. John puts his hand on his pocket and produces a not he deposits on an upturned hat at their feet. Without pausing, the drummer nods at him.

"In that research of yours, did you happen to find someplace where you can listen to live jazz?"

She looks at him, surprised. "It didn't occur to me."

"That's easily fixed." Without letting go of her arm, he takes out his own phone and scrolls for a while, showing her the screen. "What about this one?"

She smiles. "Perfect."

It's a place nearby. They go down the narrow stairs and find themselves in a room with brick walls, filled with the notes of a small band. He finds them a small table in the back and she is glad the music won't be too loud as to prevent them to talk.

A waiter takes their order and no long after there are two martinis in front of them.

"To what do we toast now?" John asks.

She smiles. "I have no idea. Jazz?"

"What about… making the most of circumstances?"

"That's what we're doing, aren't we?" His smile broadens. "Perfect. Here's to making the most of circumstances."

She takes a small sip.

"Thank you, by the way." He says, bending forward, since the music has grown louder.

"What for?"

"You know… this…" he waves his hand in the air. "Mere hours ago I was convinced this was the worst day of my life. You turned it into one of the bests."

She doesn't know what to say to that, but this time she doesn't look down. "I'm having a great time, too," she says softly. His hand rests on hers.

"I'm glad. And..." the tip of his finger traces one of hers and she shivers. "I'm sorry for behaving like an arse in the airport. I thought… at some point I thought I'd scared you."

She chuckles. "Maybe a little."

"I'm sorry." His fingers are now so very distracting she has to look at his eyes to stay focused.

"Don't be. We're here now, and you're happy, and I guess it's all that matters."

He looks suddenly solemn. "For the time being, yes."

She doesn't really understand, but she doesn't know what to ask or how either, so she takes another sip from her glass.

"Care to dance?"

She just nods.

There are few couples slowly moving on a small empty space between the tables and the stage. John puts a hand on her back and she puts hers on his shoulder. Without their gloves, his other hand is soft and warm against hers.

They remain silent for a while. She is too overwhelmed to find words, and it feels as if they are not necessary, as their bodies move with the soft music.

"Anna?" He suddenly speaks, close to her ear.

She looks at him. His eyes are on hers, and he is smiling a little.

"John?"

"Would you…? Have you…?"

She smiles at his hesitancy. "What?"

"I…" he bends lower and before she realises what's going on, they are kissing. She opens her eyes wide, before closing them to get properly and thoroughly lost into the feeling of his lips on hers; he moves his hand and now both are splayed on her back, moving up and down. Hers move to his neck and his body is now against hers, while she enjoys the texture of his hair.

The stay like that for what seems like a long time. The song might have changed once, twice, maybe more times, and they keep on swaying, their lips exploring and their hands moving slowly.

She has liked him for a long time; there is no use on trying to pretend otherwise. Only now, though, that all those invisible barriers around him have inexplicably crumbled, she can see that he has liked her all along too. Those casual conversations, glances, smiles, have been for her, and only her.

His posture changes somewhat, and she feels heat coming from his body, or maybe is just hers, as their kisses become bolder, and their hands move more freely.

"Let's go," he whispers, his voice hoarse.

They put on coats and scarves, and a moment later the cold night air hits their faces again. Not for long, though. Suddenly he is taking her hand, and pushing her against the wall of a deserted alley. He cups her cheek and she is amazed by the intensity of the kiss and her eager response. This could only lead to something, and she wants it, so very much.

With frequent stops and scarce giggles they manage to get to their hotel. The receptionist ignores them as they enter the lift, walking swiftly. The kissing resumes when they reach the door of her room. This time he touches more freely and she kisses more boldly. Somehow she manages to get the card inside the slot and open the door.

And then it all stops.

John is standing there, panting slightly. His face is no longer happy, or eager; it's as if a mask has fallen back in place.

"I… we can't do this."

"What?"

He sighs. "I'm sorry, Anna. I'm so very sorry, but we can't."

Anna takes a deep breath. "I don't understand."

"I made… I was about to make a mistake."

She doesn't know what to say. It hurts, almost physically, and it is definitely humiliating to be like this, dishevelled, panting, excited, in front of a man who suddenly announces he's been playing her all along.

A mistake.

That's what she is now.

"Then what's this night been about? Or was it just that you took too much alcohol?"

"It has nothing to do with that. I'm… I'm sorry," he sounds like it, but to her it's just lame. So very lame.

"Go, then."

He sighs and steps back.

"Good night," he mutters, right as she closes the door of her room on him.

* * *

 **AN: A small two-chapters Christmas fic. Because... well, it's Christmas.**


	2. Chapter 2

The ringing if an unfamiliar phone nearby wakes him up with a start. It takes him a moment to realise where he is and another one to locate the source of the noise.

"Hello?"

"The airline called." Anna's voice is glacial. "They've put us in the 11 o'clock flight. We have to leave in half an hour."

"Right... yes... thanks." But she's already hung up on him.

John groans, as memories from last night flood his mind.

He's definitely a prize idiot.

They meet in the lobby and the only answer he gets to his "good morning" is a glare. The taxi is no better. For once in his life he wishes for a chatty driver but, as it is, this one doesn't even have the radio on.

Anna stares out the window, and doesn't move during the entire ride.

John dreads the flight but the moment the plane is on the air she puts on headphones and closes her eyes.

He remembers her saying the night before that she would try to use the long flight to rest. Back then he was stupid enough to think that perhaps he could distract her and they would spend at least part of the almost nine hours talking.

Now it all is ruined beyond repair, at least for the time being.

He barely sleeps, even though he didn't have much rest the night before either. In his mind the events of the previous hours are like a film playing once and again. He wasn't exaggerating when he said it was one of the happiest nights of his life.

And to think he could very well have made it the first of a long series of memorable nights… Now the thought of the way it ended, the way he made it end, makes him cringe. He remembers the picture they took with her phone in front of that gigantic bean. She hadn't sent it to him, she might have erased the lot. That thought makes him sad.

The nine hours seem to stretch forever and he's more than relieved when they land, well past midnight. It was risky to reschedule to the 24th, he could have missed that appointment, too, but he hasn't and now he's just a few hours away from it.

He helps Anna with her suitcases and she mutters a "Thank you, Mr Bates," that is polite enough and feels like a slap in the face.

On previous trips they would have shared a cab. He suggests it half-heartedly and she just shakes his head. When he finally reaches his flat it seems like a lifetime has passed since they were skating in Millennium Park. And he feels even more like an idiot by the hour.

He finally manages to sleep now that he's on his own bed. In a few hours' time he will be expected at the office, if only briefly, to talk to Robert before his parting for the holidays. He might see Anna there. He doesn't know if is hoping it or dreading it.

She is not there by the time he arrives, and he manages to focus long enough to give a final report and wish his boss a happy Christmas, refusing for the umpteenth time the invitation to have dinner at his house on Christmas Night.

He meets her later. Distracted, he is sure, she catches the elevator he is in, right before the doors close.

"Anna," Gwen, their colleague, has been talking to him and now she directs her attention to her. "Mr Bates was just telling me about you two getting stranded in Chicago. Was it dreadful?"

She looks around the elevator and he notices that, despite her not moving almost during the entire flight, apparently asleep, there are dark circles under her eyes. She seems to be taking in his appearance as well.

"Dreadful is one word for it," she says. "Won't you agree, Mr Bates?"

She arches a challenging eyebrow.

"I wouldn't, no." He says just as the elevator stops.

"This is me," Gwen says, "happy holidays."

The doors open and close again, and they are alone.

"Anna, I'm sorr-"

"Please, Mr Bates." No longer John, then. Well, he certainly deserves that. "Spare us."

"But I don't want you to think-"

"What I think or don't is entirely my business." Just then they reach the ground floor. "Good bye."

"Happy holidays." He says to the empty space she was occupying.

He exits the elevator much slowly and checks his watch. He's just on time for that wretched appointment.

Vera is a greedy woman and some of his worse fears when rescheduling come to life when she shows up with a new list of demands. His lawyer, fortunately, sorts through it all and he emerges out of it not terribly worse for wear.

If only he had had the signed papers that now rested in his pocket the night before...

He will have to make it right. I will take time and, remembering Anna's proud look that morning, a lot of effort on his part, but he will make it right. When the holidays are finally over he will ask her out, corner her in the office, whatever it takes to let her know why exactly he had to be strong and refuse what he wanted the most.

That night he sits alone in his living room, not sure of what to do. The appointment has loomed over his head for so long he now feels curiously empty. From time to time he takes a glance at the sheets of paper, now resting on his coffee table, almost as if he is making sure it's not a dream.

As the times pass, his urge to see Anna grows. Only, she is not in town. She told him she was going to Yorkshire to spend Christmas with her family. For a long moment he considers getting the exact location from human resources and drive there to meet her. He finally falls asleep in the couch having done nothing of the sort.

Christmas day finds him there, but with a new determination. He feels he has been doing nothing long enough, and even if she will hate him for it, he needs to try and speak to her.

But what if it makes it worse and he ends up ruining her holidays?

As the morning goes by he grows more and more restless, until finally he reaches for his computer. Being Robert's personal assistant gives him access to almost everything on the company's internal site. Including employee's private information.

Feeling like a stalker, he opens the file labelled "Anna Smith". The address of a flat in London. A telephone number he already has in his contacts list. Her résumé. No address in Yorkshire, though. It would have been too much luck. Maybe this is for the best. And yet, he writes down the address.

He doesn't calm down as the day progresses, the need to do something fighting with the reality of having run out of ideas. One thing is clear, though. He won't be able to wait until they all come back after New Year.

Finally, an idea. It makes it all much more complicated if he involves other people, but he doesn't see other solution. With a decisive movement, he grabs his phone.

"Robert?" Laughter greets him from the other side. It's still early but at the Crawleys celebrations seem to have started.

"Bates! How are you?"

"I'm sorry to call you today-"

"Not at all, not at all. Have you finally decided to join us tonight?"

"No, I'm sorry. Thanks for the invitation, though. I only wanted to talk to Mary for a moment. Is she there?"

"Mary?"

"Just for a moment."

He can clearly picture Robert's face of confusion. "She's right here."

"Bates?" The background noise lowers considerably.

"Hi, Mary."

"What is it?"

He takes a deep, steadying breath. "Sorry to bother you. Do you have by any chance Anna Smith's address in Yorkshire?"

Mary's silence is quite eloquent and he feels the need to explain himself, but he resists.

"What for?" She finally asks.

"I- she gave me something to bring on my suitcase and I forgot to give it to her. I thought I'll send it over." It's a very sad excuse, but he hasn't come up with anything better.

Mary stays silent for a moment. "Won't be necessary." John's spirits sink. "She stayed in London. She missed her train and as far as I know, wasn't able to get into another one."

"Oh." He feels suddenly excited. "London. That's too bad. Thanks, Mary."

Now there is nothing to keep him from doing what feels like the right thing. He grabs his coat, and the piece of paper where he scribbled the address, and goes out.

It's not far from there. He knows there is a strong possibility she won't be home. She could be shopping, or at friends, or even might have managed to get out of town after all without informing Mary. John considers calling her to find out, but something tells him she wouldn't answer if his name is on the screen.

Walking down the street he passes a flower stand. He knows it won't change a thing but he gets a bouquet nonetheless.

Hers is a nice building with several flats. As he approaches it, an old man comes out and he takes the chance to enter without buzzing. Her flat is on the fourth floor. He reaches the door and tries to listen. A soft Christmas carol comes from the inside. Maybe she has company. He feels like a fool, but he's here now. He can at least give her the flowers and be over with it.

He sighs, and knocks, and almost flinches, waiting for the worse.

There is a peephole on the door. He hears soft steps approaching and sudden silence. And after a long moment, the door opens.

He has never seen her outside working clothes. She looks younger in jeans and a red jumper several sizes too big.

"Hello, Anna."

"Hello." He is relieved to hear her voice is not as cold as in their previous encounters.

"Are you... do you have company?" He takes a glance inside, but he can't see much beyond a corridor.

She shakes her head. "Want to come in?"

"Just for a moment," he says, although he hopes it will be much longer than that. "These are for you."

She smiles at him. "Daisies. My favourites."

"You mentioned it. In Chicago."

"And you remembered. Thanks."

She motions him to follow her inside.

"Would you want some hot cocoa? I was making some for me."

"That'll be lovely. Thank you."

They enter a small living room. The scent of chocolate and cookies fill the air.

"I'll be back in a moment."

While he is away, he looks around. The place is tidy and homely. There are two bookshelves almost completely full, and small Christmas tree stands in a corner. He looks around and finally settles in the sofa, unsure of what to say now he's here.

A moment later she comes back, a vase with the flowers in one hand, two steaming mugs in the other.

"They are really nice," she comments, as she places the vase in the centre of her coffee table. He smiles, a little encouraged.

Anna takes a sit next to him on the couch, but leaving a considerable empty space between the two.

"I heard you missed your train, I'm sorry." He says.

"Yeah, well," she shrugs. "I knew I'd missed it when we were in Chicago, but I thought I'd be able to get another ticket once we got here. Turns out it was nearly impossible."

He smiles sympathetically.

"You had every reason to be mad at being stranded, then."

"Not really. I wasn't too eager to go, to be honest. And… well…" she trails off.

"Listen, Anna," he begins before he loses his courage. She raises her palm in front of him.

"No. You listen. I'm... I'm sorry I was rude to you yesterday. You just... stopped us from doing something we both would regret." She gives him a small smile. "I should actually thank you for that."

John feels cold on the inside. "What? No... That's not what it was... Do you really think...? Would you have regretted it?"

"Well," she takes a deep breath. "You'll have to admit it would've been awkward. Having to work together, to see each other every day. That's why you're not supposed to go to bed with a colleague, right?"

 _To go to bed with a colleague._ The words reverberate inside him. Was that what it could have been for her? Just one wild night to forget and carry on as if nothing had happened?

"It's awkward enough as it is. But I think we can agree on forget it and move on. Don't you?" She looks at him over the brim of her mug and he realises he is supposed to answer something. He has no idea of what, but his brain seems to be yelling _no, no, no_ in all possible tones and rhythms.

"Yeah," he mutters, drinking some chocolate as well. It's good, but he barely registers it.

Both stay silent for a moment, avoiding each other eyes.

"Well," he manages, realising he really has no idea of what to say and, worse of all, how to say it. "I'll be off then." He winces at the false casual air of his own words.

He was so sure. He was convinced there was more in those shared kisses than just one night of lust in a foreign country. He thought he saw it in her eyes.

She is saying something but he doesn't register it, as she walks him to the door, as if in a very bad, strange dream.

"Happy Christmas and all that," he manages to understand.

She is looking at him, leaning on the door, her foot playing with the brim of the carpet. And he still doesn't understand how he could have been so wrong, while convinced otherwise.

"Happy Christmas, Anna."

There is a faint glow in those beautiful blue eyes. He remembers how they shone that night, how they shine when they are in the office. How he thought they shine just for him.

He turns around. And stops. He couldn't be this wrong. He couldn't- He has seen... and felt... and...

"I could never regret it." He says, and when he turns back to face her, he is glad she is still at the door. "Or forget it."

He is almost sure she has stopped breathing.

He takes a deep sigh. "I could never, ever regret any of it. Going out with you, having diner, skating," he manages a little smile. "And when we kissed… it was just perfect."

She just looks at him, and from those eyes he gets that last amount of courage he's lacking.

"I thought I saw... I think you liked it, too. I think that's why you were angry at me. Righteously so."

She opens her mouth but, for a moment, no sound comes.

"Then…?" She manages. "I don't understand you, John, really."

"You know how angry I was to be stranded at the airport?" She nods. "The appointment I had was with my wife."

"Wait, what? You have a wife?" Comprehension and shock fight their way on her features. "I almost go to bed with a married man," she adds in a panicked whisper.

"I was married then. I'm not married now." She frowns. "That appointment was the last of many. I was supposed to sign the divorce papers then."

"But you didn't make it to your appointment. The fact is, you're still married now."

"I rescheduled, remember? I signed the papers yesterday. I'm no longer married."

"So you-"

"So I wanted to prevent you from going to bed with a married man. And to give my wife… ex-wife... reasons to demand even more than what she already has taken."

"I thought you were just drunk and had a change of heart in the last minute." Her voice is flat.

"Oh no, I wasn't drunk. And most definitely didn't have a change of heart. You see… I've been trying to get that divorce for a while now. But it became urgent recently… because of you."

"Because of me," she echoes, her eyes not leaving his.

"I didn't really care before. And then we started spending time together. I… I like you, Anna. Very much."

She buries her head in her palms. "Why didn't you say so before?" her voice sounds muffled.

"I didn't know how… or when."

"How about," she looks up at him. "You know, I'm getting a divorce. Want to get a cup of coffee afterwards?"

"Doesn't sound so difficult…" he really feels stupid now.

She chuckles dryly. "It wasn't."

He sighs. "It doesn't change the facts, though. What I said is true. I love spending time with you. And I really, really enjoyed that night in Chicago. I wish it didn't have to stop when it did. Or the way it did."

"I enjoyed it too." She smiles at him. "Every bit of it."

He moves a little closer, and his hand takes hers. She doesn't move. "Oh, Anna, I'm so very sorry. I made a mess out of it."

"You hurt me, John. It was… humiliating."

He doesn't know what to say to this, because she is right.

"So, when you were yelling at that flight attendant…"

"I was worried it would take forever to get those papers signed. Vera went abroad today and I have no idea when she would be back. And then time would keep on passing, and who knows? Every day I have been afraid of you meeting somebody that could be with you, and fall in love for him. But then there we were, and you, talking about making the best of circumstances, and looking so adorable, full with life and fun…"

Her lips crush on his and he is pulled inside the flat. She manages to close the door with her foot while his body reacts before his mind kicks in, and he holds her closer, remembering the soft curves and the heat that seemed to come from her.

"For somebody who neglects to say the important stuff, you talk too much, Mr Bates."

xxxx

A carol sounds nearby and it takes him a moment to realise somebody must be singing their lungs off, four floors below.

"G'morning?" Anna mutters, and the way her eyes look at him, both sleepy and mischievous makes him want to kiss her again, and again, and forget everything around them. He settles with a soft touch of his lips on hers.

"I reckon it's still afternoon."

She is laying on top of him. They never made it out the living room. Never left the couch, really.

"So it's still Christmas?" Her eyes sparkle as she props her head up, using his chest as support.

"That. Or we slept more than twenty-for hours."

"Slept my eye!" She snorts. "Do you call that 'sleeping', Mr Bates?"

He bends down and now he definitely indulges himself, kissing her thoroughly. She shifts a little, and her small, soft hands are on his neck, going through the places she started to discover not long ago.

"No," he mutters between kissing her lips and her neck. "I wouldn't call that sleeping."

* * *

 **AN: Merry Christmas!**

 **One of the things I'm most grateful of is you! It really warms my heart! Have a happy holiday with loads of fun and love. Cheers!**


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